The Darkness Within Us All
by silent-stars-go-by
Summary: An alternate ending to my story As One Life Ends, Another Begins. Starts during Lucas's time in the mental institute.
1. Prologue

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_A/N: I planned on writing a sequel for As One Life Ends, Another Begins, and while I was thinking of ideas, this popped into my head. It's kind of an alternate ending to my story, a different way it could've gone. A darker, not-so-happy way. Hope you like!_

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**The Darkness Within Us All**

**Prologue**

_His fingers burned with intent, longing to take action. The need coursed through his veins, poisoning his blood, seeping into his muscles so control was lax and desire was venomous, fighting against its restraints. It screamed inside his head, roaring to be let free so havoc could be wrecked and blood could be shed. He was losing the fight. Truth is, he wasn't really trying, for fighting required effort and conviction, both of which he was lacking. He'd never been fighting, and he wasn't about to start now, even when it was most desperate for him to do so. He didn't care anymore, for he had nothing to live for. Come what may for his actions, because nothing else mattered to him other than this moment, this opportunity that he's been hoping for. The voice is whispering at him in his mind, that relentless darker shadow of himself that refuses to let him be. It's taunting him, daring him to do it, mocking his indecision and weakness._

"_This is what you wish for."_

"_This is your chance."_

"_Do it."_

"_What's wrong? Are you afraid?"_

_He had tried to block it out at first, but it made so much sense. The voice spoke with such reason, such reassurance, so how could it be wrong? _

"_Do this, and everything will be right again."_

_How could he refuse himself?_

"_Do it. For her."_

_And that's what this was all about. Her. Everything had always been, and always will be, about her. All of this could have been prevented, she could have been saved, if only she'd seen that you truly must be cruel to be kind. He'd been waiting so long for retribution, and with this, he'd be paid in full._

_Knife gleaming in his hand, he stares at his reflection in the threatening blade. A stranger stared back with eyes full of darkness, such haunted orbs he would've been afraid, but he knew that somehow, it was him. He knew who he was now, knew who he used to be, and he knew all too well how he'd got there. _

_It wasn't his fault, not really. He'd tried to be a good person, but life just kept throwing it back at him, laughing at his pitiful efforts, so what was the point? Something that was supposed to be so good, so pure, so innocent, turned out to be cruel and vicious, turned out to be able to take everything away from him in favour of himself._

_So it wasn't his fault, he thought to himself as he raised the knife in the air, not really. He hadn't meant to turn out this way, didn't want to. But evil lies within us all, and life just brings it out of people with the twisted games it plays. He was just the puppet to the voice in his head._

"_Come on, what are you waiting for?"_

"_Do it, before they come back and it's too late. You might not get another chance so soon."_

_Okay, he thinks, this is for the best. When I've done this, everything will be right again. Balance will be restored._

_One life for another._

_So as he brings the blade down, whistling through the air towards its helpless, unsuspecting victim, he thinks this isn't his fault. Not really._

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_****__Okay, so it's a bit vague, I know, but there'll be more soon! As always, your feedback is much appreciated._


	2. Staring into the Abyss

**_A huge thanks to _**_julianafun **and **23LaffertysGurl23** for the lovely reviews. Thank you so much; they mean a lot to me :)**_

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Staring into the Abyss

_White._

White walls.

White bed.

White clothes…white wedding dress.

_Red._

Blood.

Peyton…

Lucas stared mutely at his surroundings, the same mind-numbing four walls he'd been staring at for five months. He knew every mark, every scratch, every crevice, even every speck; he could pinpoint any groove and trace it with his mind. In his boredom, to give himself something to do, Lucas had explored every single inch of this place, including the ceiling; it was all mapped out in his mind. Sometimes, he would lie on his bed and turn the room into something entirely different in his mind. One day, it would be a bedroom, with a grand double bed centred complete with an ornate wooden headboard. He and Peyton would be lying together, tangled in the crimson sheets, enjoying a quiet moment of peace together before Sawyer awoke and demanded her feeding. Her art would be hanging all over the walls, drawings of Sawyer, Lucas and Sawyer, all three of them. He knew these thoughts, these images probably did more harm than good, but he couldn't find himself to care. That was Dr. Cartwright's job anyway. As the scene plays in his mind, a wicked voice whispers in the back of his mind, "_That will never happen, never. She left you, and she's never coming back."_

His eyes roamed over to the clock, watching the seconds pass by, each tick ringing and echoing around the bare room. He'd only just been granted the honour of pen and paper to fill his time, because despite any immediate signs he'd been on low-alert for suicide watch for the first few months, and they had feared what he could do armed with writing utensils. Lucas sat at the white desk, on the white chair, staring at the white paper, and tried to force himself to think. He was positive that these objects were only given to him purely in the hope of him spilling some hidden secret which Dr. Cartwright could psychoanalyze, but he took use of them anyway. He wanted to write, but the words wouldn't come. They were always there, right at the back of his mind, dancing on the peripheral and taunting him with their presence, but he could never quite grasp them.

"_Look what else you're losing grip of too. If you're not careful, you'll lose what little grip you have on reality, and end up even more crazy."_

They always slipped through his fingers, the words falling away, and he quite often found himself falling a little too. This room, this life was enough to drive any sane person to their limits, and beyond them, and he just wished they'd see sense and let him out already.

He _knew _Peyton was dead. After weeks of talking, of undisputable facts being thrown coldly in his face he'd slowly come to acknowledge it. He didn't want to, oh god how he didn't want to, but he knew it was the truth. He just didn't want it to be. Lucas remembered every second, every drop of life pouring out of her and onto her wedding dress. _And, more importantly, I know _why _it happened. It was because of Sawyer. _As much as he loved Peyton, Lucas hated her for leaving him like this. For not listening to him when he told her to get rid of the baby after they'd found out the health risk. If she had, she wouldn't be dead, and he wouldn't be here. They still could've had a family. They could have tried again, or adopted. _Peyton would have been all for adoption. She knows from experience how much it can matter. _He just couldn't get out of his head how _happy _they could have been. How perfect. Constantly, the life they could have lived is playing in his mind on repeat, over and over, and it drives him damn near to breaking point. Well. It drives him even further.

But it was all taken away from him. And Lucas lusted for revenge; he wanted to make the one responsible for his torment and loss suffer just as he is. _But what do I do when the one responsible is my daughter? _Whenever he thought of Sawyer, an inexplicable chill swept through his body and made him feel empty and hollow inside. It _hurt _to think of her. He only thought of her in a…_loving _way when he was imagining what his life could have been. How much he could have loved her if she hadn't destroyed the one thing he cared about more than he did himself. Lucas didn't think of his daughter with love and affection. Only a cold detachment, a fiery resentment was attached to her face.

Sighing, Lucas ran a hand through his disheveled hair, and abandoned the idea of writing. Instead, he thought about composing a letter, to Brooke, mainly, or Haley, Nathan, maybe even his mother. But, yet again, the words disappeared before his pen hit the paper, and he threw the biro across the desk in frustration. The all-too familiar sliding of the door resounded, and Lucas didn't even bother to acknowledge the psychiatrist's presence. He heard her walk over to the bed and sit down, waiting for him to speak first. This intention lasted for only five minutes until she gave in and made the first move.

"Lucas, you know what I want to talk to you about."

Lucas swiveled around in his chair to face her, matching her evaluating stare. "Just because I know, it doesn't mean I'll talk."

Dr. Cartwright shook her head sadly. "You want to get out of here as soon as possible, right? And yet you refuse to co-operate. Remember, it's not me that's keeping you in here. It's _you_." She paused to let her words sink in, lacing her fingers together. "We have to address this problem with your daughter."

Lucas raised a condescending eyebrow. "Oh? And just what might that problem be? The fact that _she _killed Peyton, my wife, _her mother_?"

"It's not as if she did it on purpose Lucas! She's a _baby_; she didn't set out to kill Peyton."

Lucas folded his arms, staring out of the window that was only there in his imagined room. "It doesn't matter whether it's intentional or not. The blame is still there."

Dr. Cartwright struggled not to let her exasperation show. She'd worked with far more stubborn patients over the years, in far worse situations, but there was just something about Lucas that got under her skin. "I know you want someone to blame for Peyton's death, and that's perfectly understandable. But you _can't _blame your own daughter."

"And why not?" Lucas roared, chair grating against the floor as he rose to his feet suddenly, arms raised. "It was _her _fault! Why can't you just see that?"

"_We know the truth Lucas. Don't listen to her. It's all Sawyer's fault."_

The psychiatrist stood up to face Lucas, matching him. "Why can't you just see that it wasn't Sawyer's fault? You're looking for someone to blame, but I'm sorry, there isn't anyone. The blame cannot be placed because there's nowhere to place it."

Lucas turned away and stalked over to the bed, sitting down on it. "That's _your_ opinion," he muttered, then looked at her, eyes burning with conviction. "You can't understand, unless you've lost someone you love with every single _fibre _of your being, someone you'd willingly lay down your life for in a second. Have you? Well? Because if you haven't, then you can't possibly-"

"Yes!" Dr. Cartwright cried, before turning to leave. "I understand _perfectly_, more than you know. But what _you _can't possibly seem to understand is that if you _don't_ _accept _the fact that you have a daughter out there who needs you, she's going to be practically orphaned. Because Lucas, I am _not _letting you out of here if you're still burning with the intent of revenge." And with that, she stormed out of the room and left Lucas alone with his darkening thoughts.

"I _have _to get out of here," he said to no one in particular, feeling tears slide down his cheeks as he fell down on to the bed, and continued in a choked whisper. "I can't take it anymore."

_"Look at how weak you've become. You're pathetic." _

Lucas buried his head into the pillow, trying to block all the world out, trying to silence that voice in his head that _just won't shut up!_

_"You know what you have to do don't you?"_

"Shut up, shut up, shut-"

_"You can't shut me up. I'm you. And there's only one way to get rid of me. To make things right. Just one thing, and it'll all be over."_

And Lucas clung onto that shred of false hope desperately. That's all he wanted. For it to all be over.


	3. Fragments of a Facade

**Fragments of a Façade**

_A month later…_

Lucas stared at the clock, counting down the seconds till his psychiatrist paid him his daily visit. He knew what he was going to say. He'd come up with the idea just over three weeks ago, and had slowly been implementing it into his sessions with Dr. Cartwright. A sudden change would be too suspicious, so he'd slowly broken into it, dropping in hints and subtle 'personal breakthroughs'. Since he'd been in this place, Lucas had learnt to become an adept actor, especially with fellow patients when he'd been deemed stable enough to filter in. He was absolutely positive that Dr. Cartwright believed what he had been feeding her, and was pretty sure that his release date would be coming up very soon. Sure enough, the door slid open.

"_Don't forget to smile."_

As Dr. Cartwright walked in, Lucas plastered a small smile on his face.

"Well, you're certainly looking cheerier," Dr. Cartwright said with a warm smile. She sat down beside him on the bed, and watched him carefully. "Lucas, how would you feel if I told you your mother was coming to visit?"

"I'd feel relieved," Lucas said. "I haven't seen her for months. And I need to apologize for the way I treated her, and the things I said." This part was true; Lucas had come to understand that everything his mother had done had been in his best interests. And, admittedly, if he hadn't ended up here, he'd still be running around chasing delusions of Peyton. But a tiny part of him, deep down inside, wished that this was still the case, that he was still happy in his ignorance. _I mean really, what life do I have left now? What am I even supposed to do now?_

Dr. Cartwright nodded, pleased with the response, but was slightly hesitant to continue. "And what if I told you that she'd be bringing Sawyer with her?"

"_Lie."_

Inside, the thought made Lucas swell with anger, and his body itched to stiffen with repulsion. But instead, he forced his smile wider, and refused to let his shoulders tense. "She's bringing Sawyer?"

"_Play it up Lucas, or she'll never believe you."_

He hugged Dr. Cartwright, who was clearly surprised by the action. "Even better! God, I can't wait to see her. I've been picturing what she would look like now. Whether you could see the resemblance to Peyton more than me. If she has Peyton's beautiful hair…" Lucas's eyes welled up as he thought about Peyton, but his psychiatrist mistook it for tears of joy.

"Lucas, that's excellent. Truly wonderful," Dr. Cartwright beamed. She opened up the folder she'd been holding, and scanned its contents for a few moments. "This is good Lucas. Your mother _is _coming, later today, with Sawyer. And when she arrives, she will be able to make the decision as to whether you are well enough to be let out, and I shall give her my opinion over the matter."

"And that would be…?"

"That I strongly recommend for you to be released."

Lucas tried to keep the smugness from his smile. This is what he'd been hoping for. She'd believed everything he'd said, every single word. _"You just have to keep it going a little longer..."_

* * *

"Lucas!"

"Mom!" Lucas ran up to his mother, throwing his arms round her. She hugged him back, and the two stood like that for a while, before Lucas pulled away. "Mom, I'm so sorry. I just wasn't thinking right, but I can see the truth now." _All of it._

Tears gathered in Karen's eyes, but she didn't fight them. "Oh, Lucas, you don't know how much I've been wishing for this moment. I'm just so relieved, so _happy _to see you well again. It's good to see you're back."

"It's good to be back," Lucas grinned, looking out through the windows into the wide open space, into a world of _colour _and _freedom_. They were in the visitors centre, and Lucas had finally been able to leave that room with the knowledge that he won't return if he kept playing his game. Through slightly gritted teeth, he asked, "So, where's Sawyer?"

"Out front with Andy."

Before Lucas could speak, Dr. Cartwright stepped forward, holding some papers. "Mrs.-"

"Please, just call me Karen."

"Karen," the psychiatrist started again. "Since Lucas was admitted here, I've seen Lucas grieve, suffer, and now, _heal_. In my opinion, he is stable enough to be released. However, I would like to meet with him every week, just for a while. Ultimately, it's your decision, but-"

"No," Karen interjected again. "I agree with you. It's time." She smiled at the psychiatrist, who returned the gesture.

"If you'd like to come with me, there are just some forms to fill in, and some other papers that require your signature, but after that, you're good to go," Dr. Cartwright explained, motioning for Karen to follow.

Before they'd left, Lucas asked if he was allowed to go out to Sawyer.

"Of course," Dr. Cartwright replied. "You're a free man."

Lucas waited in the visitors centre for a while before going to face his daughter, gathering his thoughts. It was essential that he keep composed; he couldn't let his control slip now. If that happened, everything he'd worked for, everything he'd planned would dissolve right before his eyes, and it would take even longer to get out of the institute second time around. He took deep breaths, and tried to calm himself, mentally bracing himself for the onslaught of emotions that would attack his mind as soon as he saw that fatal angelic face.

With determination, Lucas pushed opened the glass doors, and longed to take a moment to embrace the fresh air, but someone was calling his name, a voice he recognized as Andy. The sun felt good on his face, warming, relaxing, and he slowly turned to look at his mother's new husband, holding his sleeping daughter in his arms. As Andy began walking towards Lucas, he clenched and unclenched his fists, awash with mixed feelings.

"_Stay calm Lucas, or everything will fall apart."_

"Lucas," Andy said in greeting when he reached him. "You're looking well."

Lucas smiled stiffly in response, nodding. _How many times am I going to be hearing that?_

"She's missed you."

"I'm sure she has," Lucas replied, hoping that Andy didn't pick up his hint of bitterness.

"_Come on, you have to do better than this! At this rate you'll end up back in that white room before you know it."_

"Can I please hold her?" Lucas asked with feigned enthusiasm.

"Of course you can." Carefully, Andy passed Sawyer into Lucas's waiting arms. "Support her head, like this."

Lucas stared down at his daughter without really seeing. He didn't know what he was looking at, who it was, didn't know what the warm weight in his arms was. Somewhere in his mind, he heard a part of him crying out to love her, to protect her, desperately begging him to listen, but it was quickly silenced by that menacing, darker voice that just wouldn't let him be.

"_Indecision is weakness, Lucas. You can't afford to doubt, or you'll never get your chance."_

Internally, Lucas pleaded for it to stop, to just let silence envelop his thoughts so he could be at peace and just concentrate on what he was doing. It wasn't making things any easier.

"I can definitely see you in her," Andy breathed, before adding somewhat hesitantly, "and Peyton, too, from the photographs I've seen."

Lucas nodded, cradling Sawyer to his chest. He stared down at her with a look of such affection that it would convince anyone that he truly cared for her, and was not really planning anything at all.


	4. Just Beneath the Surface

**_I can't apologize enough for the inexcusable delay of this update. Between 3 hours a night of homework (no lie), art coursework, revision, exams, and having to write the school play, I've had absolutely no time to write this._**

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Just Beneath the Surface

Lucas gripped the rim of the sink tightly, knuckles flaring white, trying to still his shaking hands. He'd slept last night, he thought, somewhere between rest and a kind of delirious oblivion. His body still ached as if he'd run a marathon, limbs weighed down with an insatiable weariness that pulsed in his muscles all the time. Maybe his subconscious was in shock, unable to process the sudden change of environment and lifestyle. The sudden addition of freedom. _But_, Lucas mused as he looked up at his reflection, _I'm still not free_. He wasn't bound by walls of white or locked doors anymore, but by himself, like a prisoner in his own mind. It wouldn't let him be; it was always there, waiting, watching, but never silent. He raised his fingers to his temples and rubbed soothing fingers into his skin, eyelids fluttering closed in an attempt to block everything out.

"Stop, stop, just stop," he murmured, over and over like a mantra. He just wanted things to be normal again.

"_And it will be, as soon as the deed is done."_

Karen paused at the door to Lucas's room, trying to stay quiet as she listened. She'd been on her way to see him anyway, but had stopped upon hearing sounds coming from behind the closed door. She strained to hear, but she couldn't make out the dull murmur that resonated from within. Giving up, she knocked lightly on the door. "Lucas?"

"Yeah?" Lucas called, his voice sounding more strained than he would have liked.

"Brooke and Julian are here. They've come to see you."

"I'll be out in a minute," Lucas answered, turning on the taps to splash the icy water on his strangely feverish skin. He felt nervous at the prospect of seeing his friends, and his hands still shook with unwarranted tremors. He didn't want to lie to them, and his heart was telling him that he didn't have to. He could tell the truth, tell them everything. But his head was too loud, reasoning with him.

"_If you tell them, they'll hate you for it. They'll look at you with disgust, with repulsion. Is that what you want, to lose even more people from your life?"_

Numbly, Lucas resigned to the thought, and somewhere within himself he broke a little more. He couldn't lose Brooke too. It was necessary to lie. _Besides, it's not technically lying, _Lucas thought half-heartedly as he pulled on a clean shirt,_ it's just not telling them the whole truth. _As he turned away from his reflection, he knew his face said it all. He walked out of the room and into the lounge to meet his guests, quickly applying a smooth smile, but it ached at the corners from its fakeness.

"Brooke, Julian, it's good to see you both."

Brooke turned at the voice, eyes lighting up with joy. "Luke!" She dashed up from her seat and threw her arms around him, hugging him tight. "It's good to see you," she whispered, fighting back a tear.

"You too, Brooke," Lucas murmured, giving one last squeeze before pulling apart. He allowed Brooke to lead him down to the couch and sat beside her. "So how have you two been?"

Brooke glanced at Julian, smiling warmly. "We're good."

"Great, actually," Julian added, feeling the need to join in the conversation.

Lucas smiled genuinely this time, pleased for his friends. "Well, that's good to hear!"

"So how are you Lucas?" Brooke asked, slightly hesitant to go there. Maybe the atmosphere in the room changed, dipping suddenly to a frozen silence fraught with awkwardness, but maybe it didn't. Maybe a jolt shot through Lucas, forcing his shoulders tense and his jaw stiff, but maybe he was just stretching_._

"Fine," Lucas ground out, then continued, "I am, really."

Brooke nodded enthusiastically, but Julian just watched him carefully. _Something's off. I just can't place what._

Further conversation was rendered impossible when Sawyer's wails split through the air, demanding attention. Karen went to go to her, but stopped, looking at Lucas. "Do you want to go?"

_No. _"Sure," Lucas replied, getting up and heading in the direction of the cries. "I won't be a minute."

As soon as his back was turned to them, his wall came crumbling down, which was a miracle in itself for having lasted that long. He pushed the door to the nursery open gently, and let it fall closed behind him before approaching the crib apprehensively. He rested his hands on the polish oak of the cradle, idly musing over the image of looking at his daughter through bars, eyes squinting at her. Looking down upon her, her eyes streaming and face twisted with the cries of hunger, Lucas didn't know how he felt. A strange feeling flooded through him, twisting itself in knots inside of him till it was so tangled he couldn't discern anything from it.

"How am I supposed to feel when I look at her?" Lucas murmured to himself quietly, slowly reaching one hand out and down towards her. He gasped when tiny, fragile fingers closed around one of his own, restraining himself from pulling away. Sawyer pulled on him gently, her grip relaxing and tightening sporadically, and Lucas's breath caught in his throat as she stared up at him with wide, innocent eyes as she fell silent. He was almost choking with the rage of the emotions swelling, feeling guilty under her almost accusing gaze. _How can this be the right thing to do?_

"_Don't lose sight of your goal now!" _The thought was unwanted, so loud and sudden it jolted Lucas out of his reverie and he recoiled away from his daughter, feeling helpless and lost. _"Don't be fooled by her Lucas; see beneath her surface, see what's she done, to you and to Peyton! Remember her? Your wife?"_

A sob escaped Lucas' lips. "Of course I do!"

"_I don't think you do. I think you're forgetting her. Forgetting how she _died_, and who was responsible for it."_

Lucas stared at his daughter with eyes wide and wild, despair pulling him down to his knees. His hands went to his head, gripping and twisting through his hair. "But I can't. _I can't!_"

"_Liar! This is what you want!"_

"No!" Lucas cried, tears flowing freely. _How did I get this far? I'm a monster. _He looked down at his hands, now shaking violently, seeing blood pooling in his palms and seeping through his fingers, making him feel sick and dizzy and just even more _scared_. "I don't want this. Any of this. I just want Peyton."

"_Well you can't have her!"_

He knew he couldn't, but the words still cut through him like a knife, a strangled protest dying in his throat. "Just stop, please, just stop."

"_We've already been through this Lucas. You know what you have to do."_

Lucas sighed heavily, burying his head in his hands, shoulders slouching in resignation while he mentally tore himself to shreds on the inside. He just couldn't ignore that voice, that part of himself that he wanted to bury deep, so deep it could never be found, but it was too persistent, too stubborn, too strong. Too persuasive.

* * *

Julian tried to keep his horror silent as he stared through the crack in the door adorned with flowers and teddy bears, and 'Sawyer' spelt across it in bright, fancy letters. Through that narrow sliver of an opening, a devastating revelation presented itself to him. He watched Lucas break down, crying and shouting to no one but himself, body shaking fiercely. _I knew something was wrong_. He took a fearful, hopefully silent step backwards, but cringed as a seemingly deafening creak echoed from the floorboards. Lucas' head whipped round at the sound, and he jumped to his knees, running for the door and wrenching it fully open before whoever it was could escape.

"Julian?" His breath was ragged, weary, his face a mixture of confusion and anger. "What are you doing?"

Before he could answer, Julian let out a cry of surprise as Lucas grabbed his wrist and yanked him into the room, closing the door behind him with a terrifyingly calm finality.


	5. Falling over the Edge

**_Merry Christmas :) _**

**Falling Over the Edge**

Julian yanked his arm out of Lucas's grasp, rubbing his wrist where Lucas's fingers had wrapped around tightly. "What on earth is going on Lucas?"

Lucas hastily wiped the tears streaming down his cheeks, trying desperately to compose himself while the voice in his head was screaming at him, cursing him for his foolishness. He pictured a dozen possible directions for this situation to head in, varying in different degrees of trauma. "It's not what it looks like," Lucas spoke, but his voice was strained and choked and he cleared his throat, trying to pull himself together. "I'm not crazy…it's just every now and then it all comes back, and sometimes it's too hard." Lucas tried not to visibly wince at the falseness of this own words.

Julian folded his arms, skeptical. "You expect me to believe that? 'Sometimes it's too hard'? Of course that would happen, but that wouldn't mean you'd be shouting to thin air." Lucas faltered, trying in vain to come up with something to possibly explain what Julian had just witnessed. "If you don't give me a reasonable, _believable _explanation for what I just saw _right _now, I'm going out there and telling Brooke and your mom."

"No!" Lucas cried, rushing towards Julian and placing himself in his route to the door. "Please don't."

"What are you up to Lucas?" Julian asked, a mixture of fury and exasperation clouding his features. "What kind of game are you playing here? I knew something was off, and this just proves it. You're still not right." He drummed his fingers on his temple frantically to emphasize his point.

"_You'll never be able to convince him of anything Lucas. He won't believe it, not now."_

Lucas shook his head, trying to shake it away, this voice, this whisper of a madman that had him gripped in its poisonous vice, bloody and tight.

"_This is it now, this is your only chance!"_

"No," Lucas whispered, both to Julian and the voice, his eyelids fluttering closed.

"_Do it for Peyton, because Sawyer took her away from you! Do it for yourself, because of what Sawyer has done to you! Just do this, and you'll be free. I'll be gone. You can be at peace. JUST DO IT!"_

Julian stared at him, perplexed, then glanced at Sawyer, whose cries had softened to a gentle whimper. "You need to go back to the-"

"_No!_" Lucas yelled, struggling to keep his voice quiet so he didn't attract the attention of Karen or Brooke. "I will _never _go back there." His voice was low, deadly, and it chilled Julian to the core. Without warning, Julian tried to make a sudden dash for the door, but Lucas pushed him back, landing a punch to his eye. While Julian recovered himself, Lucas grabbed the lamp nearest to him and brought it down over his head, and watched in a transfixed horror as Julian collapsed on the floor, unmoving. He dropped the ruined base of the lamp, fingers shaking uncontrollably. Everything was slipping through his fingers, spiraling madly out of control. _No..I've never been in control_. Shards of glass lay at his feet, a kind of crushing irony that laughed back at him, telling him that that's what his life was like, what _he _was like. Broken. Shattered. _Unfixable._

"Lucas?"

Lucas turned at the sound of his name, momentarily grounded, and hurried out of the room before his mother could come in, making sure the door was closed behind him. He stepped into the lounge just as Karen was coming out.

"What's wrong Lucas? What was that noise?" Karen asked, concerned. "I heard a crash and-"

"Nothing, nothing," Lucas interjected, trying to slow his breathing and force his expression into one of calmness. "I just accidently knocked a lamp over, that's all."

"Is there glass? Did it go in Sawyer's cot?"

"No, no," Lucas said, desperately trying to stop his mother from going into Sawyer's nursery. "Everything's fine mom, it's nowhere near Sawyer's cot. I'll clear it up now."

Lucas tried to hide his dark relief when his mother, appeased, backed away and joined Brooke back on the couch. "The brush is in the kitchen cupboard under the sink."

"Thanks," Lucas murmured and disappeared into the kitchen. He reached the sink, but as he was about to crouch down he caught the flash of the sunlight dancing on lethal metal. He stared at the gleaming blade, riveted.

* * *

"_There's no going back now."_

* * *

Brooke glanced at her watch, frowning. Karen saw her do this, and, seemingly reading her thoughts, laughed. "Maybe he got lost."

Brooke smiled up at the older woman. "I'll just go and see. Maybe he's in with Sawyer." She stood up, placing her mug on the coffee table and walked to where she knew the bathroom would be. She stopped on the door, knocking. "Julian? Are you in there?" When there was no answer, she pushed the door open, revealing an empty room. Perplexed, she turned away, and walked down the hall to the nursery. Turning the handle, she called Julian's name and opened the door, not expecting what she saw before her. Her heart felt as though it were collapsing in on itself, for too late, it all clicked into place.

* * *

Still standing over the sink, tearing himself up in his mind, Lucas started with a jolt when he heard a terrified shriek from Brooke. It came from down the hallway. Cursing, Lucas grabbed the handle of the knife and lifted it out of the sink, turning to leave. Running out of the room, he collided with Karen, who had been making her way to Brooke after hearing her cry. Karen fell to the floor at the impact, and looked up at her son. Or rather, who she thought was her son. But that look in his eyes was someone else, the conflict and pain and dark determination was not his, nor the hand holding the knife with shaking fingers.

"Lucas," she breathed, eyes wide and fearful.

Lucas stared down at his mother, fingers clenching and unclenching, before turning away and racing down the hall to the nursery. The door was flung wide open, revealing Brooke crouching down next to Julian in an attempt to rouse him. She looked up at Lucas's arrival, looking at him with dread. Lucas slammed the door closed behind him, and dragged a chair over to prop it in front of the door. He looked from his knife, to Sawyer, to Julian, and lastly, to Brooke, whom his eyes settled on, and with a crushing sincerity, he whispered, "I'm sorry."


	6. It All Comes Back to This

_**Apologies for the delay. A combination of back-to-back exams and illness have left me little time and energy to write. Plus, I was a little unsure of how I wanted this to pan out, and FanFiction seemed to have a problem with uploading the file.**_

**

* * *

It All Comes Back to This**

Karen's fingers shook as she pressed the phone to her ear, the dial tone resounding.

"Hello?"

"Doctor Cartwright?"

"Yes? Who is-"

"It's Karen, Lucas's mother. I need your help," she interjected, struggling to keep her voice from wavering. "It's Lucas, he's just- he's about- I don't know what to do!"

"Stay calm Karen. Tell me what's wrong."

As instructed, Karen tried to steady herself, taking a deep breath. "I thought he was fine. But he's fooled us all. He seemed okay but he's shut himself in the nursery with Sawyer...with a knife." She paused, hearing Dr. Cartwright's sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. "Brooke's in there with him, and Julian, but I think he's...oh Dr. Cartwright, what do I do? Shall I try to talk to him?"

There was silence as the psychiatrist thought. "No, I don't think that would be wise. I'm sure Brooke is trying to get through to him, and too many voices may confuse him and make the situation worse. I'll be there as soon as I can, with help. Just hold on until then."

"Okay," Karen agreed quietly, but the psychiatrist had already hung up. She put the phone back in its place and walked to the nursery door, pressing herself against it in an effort to hear more, her mind pushing her to do something, say something to intervene. _No, Dr. Cartwright told me not to_. As much as she ached, Karen stayed silent, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of what was unfolding on the other side of the door.

* * *

"You don't have to do this," Brooke pleaded, her voice broken and laden with fear. "This won't solve anything Lucas. It'll only make things worse."

"No it won't," Lucas whispered, eyes still fixed on Brooke, but staring straight through. "This fixes things. He promised it would."

Brooke frowned, confusion plaguing her features. "Who promised?"

Lucas shook his head dismissively. "It doesn't matter. Nothing matters anymore. Except this. I have to do this now. One life for another."

"Revenge? You're doing this for revenge?" Brooke choked, disbelieving. "It's not Sawyer's fault-"

"Not Sawyer's fault, not Sawyer's fault," Lucas mimicked, head tilted. "That's been drilled into me over and over-"

"Well it's obviously not been drilled in enough, or you would've seen sense and accepted it!" Brooke cried, before trying to calm down. _Shouting at Lucas wouldn't help anything. I have to try and reason with him._ She dared a glance down at Julian, whose head she was cradling on her lap. A trickle of blood was working its way out of his hairline, and along his forehead as his eyelids fluttered slightly and a moan escaped his lips. Brooke looked back up at Lucas. "The only thing you're achieving is causing hurt and pain. How on earth could you ever bring yourself to even want to kill a child...your own child? This isn't you. Where's the real Lucas?"

"He died with Peyton, when she" - he gestured to Sawyer wildly with the knife - "killed her!" Tears ran down his face, hot and salty on his cheeks.

"Sawyer didn't kill her Luke. It was just an accident. We all miss Peyton, but nothing will bring her back. Think of how'd she feel if she could see you now, wanting to kill the child you created together." Brooke felt optimistic when she saw Lucas hesitate, saw his resolve falter as the flicker of indecision was growing in his eyes.

_"Don't listen to her Lucas. She's just trying to distract you_."

"Maybe she's right," Lucas whispered, staring down at the knife gleaming in his hand. "Maybe it was just an accident."

"_No Lucas, you can't turn back now, you coward_!" The voice was relentless, sneering harshly in his mind. "_Remember Peyton, lying lifeless in your arms, blood staining her wedding dress_."

Lucas' shoulders stiffened as the image was frozen in his mind. He could see it so clearly, every detail crisp and fresh as if it had been only yesterday...Peyton's lips parted and her chest moving so slightly, with just the lightest of breaths keeping her alive...him wrapping her arms around her, screaming her name as tears blinded him...her eyes, glazed, looking up at him with fear, and he felt so helpless.

"I couldn't save her," Lucas sobbed, sounding so broken Brooke's heart clenched painfully, "I couldn't save her...I couldn't do anything except stand by and watch her die." His fingers went lax, and his grip of the knife weakened. Brooke dared to hope, but the feeling was crushed when Lucas' fingers gripped the knife tightly and with a renewed determination, he raised the knife skyward. "Someone has to pay."

* * *

Karen couldn't resist. She couldn't just stand by and do nothing. Tentatively, she balled her hand into a fist, and raised it to knock on the wood of the nursery door.

* * *

"No."

Lucas stopped in his advances as the weakly spoken word sliced through him. He turned to see Julian looking up at him, his face twisting from the throbbing in his head. "These aren't your words. Someone's putting them in your mouth."

Brooke frowned down at him. "What do you mean?" She looked back to Lucas, feeling helplessly out of the loop. "Lucas?"

But he wasn't listening. Not to them, anyway. A spiteful laugh was echoing around his mind, bouncing off his memories and his thoughts. "You're weak. Pathetic." Lucas plastered his hands over his ears, pressing down hard to try and shut the voice out. "No, no, no, no," he murmured, a despaired mantra to his being.

"Lucas?" Brooke repeated, desperate. "Can you hear something? Can you hear...a voice?"

"_This is it. You're crazy. Certifiable._" It was bitter, unyielding. "_They're gonna like you away and throw away the key. Stuck in that same white room for the rest of your life._"

There was a gentle rapping on the wooden door. "Lucas."

"Just shut up, shut up!" he cried, pressing down harder. His eyes were clenched shut as he tried to block out the world. But there were too many sounds, too many voices pulling him in every direction - Brooke, Julian, the voice in his head that's _just always there_, his mother knocking on the door, crying out his name in vain - it was all too much. He couldn't ground himself, didn't know which way to go; every way he turned he was cornered, just a cacophony of noise attacking from all directions, _-_

"I can't!" he shrieked, falling to his knees, the weight of the world pushing him down. "I can't do it...I can't..." The knife slid from his fingers, landing in a clattering heap on the floor, denting the wood with its threatening blade. He slid his hands from his ears and covered his face, his body wracking with sobs as he curled in on himself. "Oh God, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Limbs heavy with shock, Brooke sat watching Lucas for an eternity of a moment, only stirring from her trance when Julian sat up slowly, reaching a hand to the back of his head. He gestured at the broken form in front of him. "Go on, Brooke."

Nodding, she pressed a kiss to his cheek, before getting to her feet and walking slowly over to Lucas, as if she were cautiously approaching a wild animal. She knelt down and slid the knife away, sending it scuttling across the floor to rest at Julian's feet. Then, she knelt down, wrapping an arm around Lucas' shoulders and pulling him against her, feeling his tears bleeding onto her neck as he melted into her, trying to bury himself.

"It's okay Lucas, it's okay," Brooke whispered into his ears, but the words tasted bitter in her mouth, recalling how she'd soothed him with the same words after Peyton had died, before he'd been taken away.

The roars of engines echoed on the quiet street outside, causing Brooke and Julian to share a worried glance, but Lucas didn't stir from his misery. Julian stood up gracelessly, stumbling slightly and wincing in pain as his head protested, but he ignored it, and made his way over to the door, dragging the chair away with a sickening screech. As soon as he'd done that, the door was flung open to reveal Karen, eyes wet and wide with worry. She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped when she took in Julian's appearance.

"I'm fine. And more importantly, so is Sawyer," Julian reassured. Seconds later, Dr. Cartwright ran into the hallway behind them, accompanied by two male orderlies and a police officer. Julian stepped aside, allowing Karen to enter with Dr. Cartwright beside her.

"Brooke?" Dr. Cartwright started, "thank you for your help, but I think I'll be able to take over now."

Brooke looked between the psychiatrist and Lucas, and, with reluctance, peeled herself away. He tried to hold on, hands grasping in the space where she'd been. "I'm going to be right over here, okay Lucas?"

Lucas mumbled a reply, staring numbly at the cot in front of him where Sawyer slept, oblivious to the chaos that she had become the unwitting centre of.

"Lucas?" Dr. Cartwright asked, crouching down beside him. "Hello again." She smiled warmly, but he didn't look at her, didn't reply; he just murmured something unintelligible under his breath repeatedly, caught up in raptures of despair. In an attempt to elicit a response, she placed a hand on his shoulder, but he flinched away, recoiling from the touch.

"No, no," he cried, "please, not again. I promise i won't try to hurt her again."

Dr. Cartwright hesitated, seeing the sorrow in his eyes, and felt pity for Lucas, for everything he'd become. A broken shadow of a desperate man. "I'm sorry Lucas, but I'm afraid there's no other way." And, for maybe the first time in her career, she truly did feel sorry. "Do you think you can come with me?"

Sluggishly, Lucas turned to look at her, his eyes bloodshot. "Okay." With help from Dr. Cartwright, he hauled himself to his feet. The orderlies stepped forward into the room, but Dr. Cartwright dismissed them with a wave of her hand. Nevertheless, they stayed close behind the pair as they walked through the hall of the house and out of the front door.

Karen came rushing out of the house behind them. "Wait!" She hurried down the steps and threw her arms around Lucas. "I love you, Lucas," she whispered, holding him tight before a hand on her shoulder told her it was time to let him go. The orderlies walked silently over to the back of an ominous white van, holding the door open ready, watching Dr. Cartwright lead Lucas over to them.

As Lucas soundlessly stepped into the van, Dr. Cartwright called, "I'll be following right behind you Lucas. I'll see you in a moment."

Lucas turned back as the doors were closed and locked forcefully behind him, staring out the window with regret and remorse. Through the hazy glass, he saw Dr. Cartwright comforting his mother, arms around her as she cried into her shoulder. A little way behind them, the police officer was talking gravely to Brooke and Julian, the former of which looked so hurt and in despair. On the other side of town, Haley and Nathan would be going about their lives, soon to receive a phone call from Brooke that would cause more devastation. Lucas sank down heavily onto the uncomfortable iron bench, holding his head in his hands as he sighed wearily. _Brooke was right. All I've done is cause hurt and pain_. The consequences of his actions, and what he'd been about to do weighed heavily on his consciousness. Staring down at the white floor of the van, so reminiscent of his room at the psychiatric hospital, Lucas cried, but he had no tears left to shed._ I deserve everything I get._

In the house, Sawyer stirred awake from her blissful slumber, waiting for her father to return.

* * *

_**So I decided I couldn't hurt Sawyer after all, so sorry if this was anti-climatic, and if anyone particularly wanted a sadder ending, drop me a line. This story was only intended to be a little short side story, so I decided to end it here, or else get stuck in a vicious circle of it.**_

_**Once again thanks to all you lovely readers, reviewers, favouriters and story-alerters out there. You make my day :)**_


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